


Proud of You

by tumbleweedfarm



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A good dash of homophobia, Bad Parenting, I'm just full of rage, I'm sorry I made Sakusa's family mean I'm sure they're lovely people, M/M, POV Alternating, Sakusa loves Atsumu a lot, The sunaosa is light ok, This is for my fellow angry kids stuck at home for the holidays, despite the rage it's disgustingly fluffy, yeah I use haikyuu to project shut up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28403832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumbleweedfarm/pseuds/tumbleweedfarm
Summary: Sakusa never planned on a good response when he told his parents about his sexuality. However, they aren't hung up on what he expects.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 49
Kudos: 545





	Proud of You

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILER TAGS:
> 
> \- honestly not great parenting  
> \- a slap happens
> 
> SPOILERS OVER
> 
> Welcome to my first hq fic, I'm in sakuatsu hell. Enjoy the hurt and the comfort.

His keys are on the third hook by the door. The car is unobstructed on the street. His coat is in the closet, fifth from the left, right by his untouched suitcase.

Kiyoomi catalogs this information for later use as he sips at his tea. It’s good, of course. The leaves are of high quality and well prepared. But today, the words pinned to Kiyoomi’s tongue leave no room to enjoy it.

The parlor of his family’s home is sewn with an infuriating air of formality. Long curtains and fresh flowers conceal everything left unsaid. Mahogany is good for hiding things, Kiyoomi thinks. The red-brown lines of the wood easily conceal the scratches that Sakusa’s nervous fingernails have been leaving under the armrests of furniture since he was a kid. A horrible habit, his mother says. It takes forever to get the marks out of the wood. Kiyoomi runs his pinky over one of the older lines. 

He shifts downward on the dark cushion of his chair. He brings the tea close to his face and lets the steam join his own. 

“Sit up straight.” His sister whispers from his right. She means well. This is a routine. His sister informs him of a misdemeanor, and Kiyoomi chooses wether or not to correct it. Usually, he would. It saves him from the lectures his parents insist on. He doesn’t like unnecessary arguments, anyway. Today, though, there are more pressing matters.

“Kiyoomi, shoulders up,” His mother finally catches him. “You’ll wrinkle your shirt.”

He straightens and adds that to the ever growing list of reasons his mother has scolded him on his posture. Past reasons include “You’ll get stuck like that,” “People won’t respect you,” and “It’s not attractive.” The reasons changed as he aged, and Sakusa let them push pins into his spine to straighten it. 

The comments would usually roll off his corrected shoulders, but nothing about today is typical. Frustration that had quietly simmered under his tongue for years begins boiling. He needs to calm down, or his voice would waver. 

He won’t be taken seriously that way, he’s been told.

Kiyoomi thinks about strong, warm hands on his shoulders. He thinks about soft lips following calloused fingers on his shoulder blades. He thinks about a wave of blond hair falling over his cheekbone when those lips trail to his ear. “Pull yer shoulders back, Omi. You’ll strain ‘em, and we both know how crabby ya get when you’ve got a crick in yer neck.”

The steam settles. Just enough to plan the next move.

Kiyoomi knows an opportunity will come up. At nearly every one of these monthly family visits, the same topics are recycled over and over. It’s barely even necessary to listen anymore. Kiyoomi can go nearly an entire evening on autopilot, thinking about the little apartment in Osaka he gets to go home to.

Unfortunately, the cocktail of anxiety and practiced distance blocks the opportunity from view until it’s staring him right in the face. His mother had been saying something about his brother’s upcoming wedding anniversary when her inevitable question came, so quickly that Kiyoomi didn’t have time to form anything remotely eloquent.

“Kiyoomi, dear, you’re twenty three now. When are you going to-“

“I’m not.” He blurts. His stomach does an impressive drop right to his feet. The oxygen is sucked out of the room. Kiyoomi’s brother sets his cup down slowly, aware of the demanding silence. 

“You’re not…what?” His father finally decides to chime in from his spot to his left. For the first time since he’d arrived, all eyes were on Kiyoomi, the soon-to-be disappointment.

He tucks a deep breath away, hoping it’s enough to keep his voice steady when he says, “I’m not going to bring a woman home.”

Kiyoomi’s siblings shift in their seats. They’ve known for years, sworn to secrecy since Kiyoomi was seventeen. They know every implication of his words. His mother, voluntarily blind to anything that could unravel a single thread of her plans, does not.

“Oh, you’re probably too busy for now,” She turns to her empty cup of tea, voice threaded with something high and tight. “You’ll find a nice girl soon enough, I’m sure.”

Kiyoomi’s fingers scratch at the armrest, desperately trying to relieve any of the vibrating tension in his chest. His mind tears through a thousand scenarios, where he screams or cries or finally tells his mother to look into her children’s eyes and still say they’re fine. 

But he’s so, so tired. So tired of spelling out everything that’s painful or imperfect. Kiyoomi lifts up the mask of nonchalance over his words, as he always has, and says, “I’m gay.”

Two words, and Kiyoomi bites the bullet and spits it out at once. He feels a nervous flush creeping over his chest and ears, and it almost feels good. For once, his mother is silent. The teacups and quips are frozen and suspended in still hands and lips. He has the floor. And, by god, is he going to dance.

“You know Miya Atsumu, right, mother?” He swirls his tea around in his glass and sits up as straight as ever. “I’ve been living with him for a year. Dating him for longer.” 

Kiyoomi’s siblings have taken to looking at anything but their mother. Her mouth has twisted into a confused line. Kiyoomi doesn’t bother looking at his father. He keeps up his cool veneer, the familiarity of it keeping his hands still while his heart thunders against his ribs.

“Nothing to say?” Kiyoomi wishes his voice didn’t crack.

There are a few paths that lay clear in front of him right now. One, his parents will give him the “It’s just a phase” talk, and he’ll go home even more frustrated than he had been at the beginning of the evening. Two, his parents will yell, he will yell back. Not ideal, but at least it will feel like something. Three, his mother will give that tight smile, his father will look at him with just a little more disdain, and nothing will change. Somehow, this is the worst option.

“Now, Kiyoomi,” His father begins in that voice Kiyoomi hates so much. Kiyoomi finally looks at him. “I’ll do you a favor and look past your blatant disrespect.”

He fails to see where he found it in the first place.

“And we will discuss your…preferences…later,” His father grits out. Kiyoomi’s exasperation builds. “But, Kiyoomi…”

His father sends an apprehensive look to his mother. Kiyoomi follows it to find her squinting in mild disgust, the same way she does when her wine is too bitter. Kiyoomi prepares a handful of scathing remarks.

“That Miya boy?” His mother sneers. “Really?”

Kiyoomi’s boiling blood turns to ice. He bites out the only word that hasn’t died on his tongue.

“What.”

“Choosing to date a man is shocking enough, but Miya Atsumu isn’t…well he’s not Sakusa family material.” His mother rolls her eyes.

Kiyoomi sets aside the first half of that sentence for his own sake. He notices his hands, knuckles white around the armrests of his chair. He grips them tighter. “What, _exactly _, is that supposed to mean?”__

__“Don’t take that tone with your mother, Kiyoomi.” his father snaps. Kiyoomi rakes his nails over expensive wood._ _

__“We only want the best for you, dear.” His mother attempts a soothing tone. Kiyoomi has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying he already has it._ _

__Kiyoomi’s father, unfortunately, continues to speak. “Miya Atsumu is loud, boisterous, and quite frankly, a jerk.”_ _

__Yes, he is, Kiyoomi thinks. He loves him anyway. He wants to say it, wants to shut his family up for good. But he can’t. His nails threaten to splinter through his mother’s precious mahogany armrests._ _

__Kiyoomi thinks of looking to his siblings, but he learned a long time ago that they care more about keeping the lid on the pot than pulling out the soured contents. For all their love and oaths of silence, they were never pillars of support._ _

__“And he’s vulgar. Always sticking his tounge out. It’s not very becoming,” His mother huffs dryly. “Oh, honestly, Kiyoomi, what did I tell you about the scratching? You’ll ruin the varnish.”_ _

__The ice in Kiyoomi’s veins melts and boils once more. Any cracks of uncertainty in his voice have turned to daggers._ _

__“You have no right to talk about him like that,” He bites, pushing himself up to tower over his mother. His fingertips are raw. “Absolutely none. Do you hear me?”_ _

__“Kiyoomi,” His mother grits out. “It’s not an insult to you. This is a reality check. Think of your future.”_ _

__“It sure as hell sounds like an insult to me!” Kiyoomi digs his aching fingertips into his palms._ _

__“ _Sakusa Kiyoomi _.” His father’s presence looms behind him, despite being a good ten centimeters shorter, but Kiyoomi can’t bring himself to care.___ _

____He turns anyway, if only to watch the fire he’s been stoking rage in his father’s face. “What. The _fuck _do you-“___ _ _ _

_______Smack. ____ _ _ _ _ _

________Kiyoomi registers the sound first. A snap, layered over the quiet gasps of his siblings. Then, a deep, tingling pain that radiates from his jaw to just below his left eye. Kiyoomi almost laughs. At least it’s a result. He ignores the cold drop in his stomach._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“You can say what you want about me,” Kiyoomi grits out, eyes glued to a piece of delicate embroidery nearby, “You can scream, curse me. Hell, you can tell me to fuck off and never come back.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________In all Kiyoomi’s years in that house, it had never been that still. His cheek feels thick with the leftover sting. Damn, that was a good hit. He wishes he had the courage to return it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“But none of you,” he continues, low and sharp, “will ever. _Ever. _Say another word about Miya Atsumu in front of me.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He puts one foot in front of the other, daring anyone in the room to stop him. No one moves. Keys on the third hook from the door, coat fifth from the left-_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Kiyoomi.” His mother catches him just as he’s opening the door. He doesn’t turn._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“We just…” Her voice cracks. “We just want you to be with someone you can be proud of.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Kiyoomi takes a deep breath, wills it to cool his voice one more time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Don’t expect me back next month.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He slams the door behind him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu knows that Sakusa hates visiting his family. At first, Atsumu thought it would be a welcome respite from their sweaty practices and Bokuto’s questionable food habits. But every month, Sakusa comes home with a couple more knots in his shoulders. Atsumu never minds taking the time to work them out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Still, despite his pickiness, Sakusa is surprisingly resilient. So when Atsumu gets a message from Sakusa saying that he’d be home an entire 22 hours earlier than expected, Atsumu braces for impact._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He scrubs down every surface he can reach. He dusts the blinds, wipes down the counters, washes the throw blankets. Their shared apartment gleams like the day they moved in and Sakusa had insisted on having it professionally cleaned. Atsumu finishes it off with the lavender room spray that Sakusa likes so much. Anxious energy thrums under his skin as he leans against the dining table and waits._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Something had been off about this visit from the start. Sakusa had looked even more tense than usual before he left. But what threw Atsumu off even more was the firm, lingering kiss Sakusa had planted on his forehead. He had stayed frozen in the living room even after Sakusa closed the door._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu, as usual, thinks he’s prepared for whatever walks through the door. Atsumu, as usual, is wrong._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa rips open the door exactly four hours and thirty two minutes after his message to Atsumu. He shoves his suitcase to the side and looks at Atsumu with so much rage behind his eyes that Atsumu considers running. He doesn’t._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I told them.” Sakusa’s voice is ragged, like he’d been yelling. His hands twitch at his sides._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu knows exactly what he means and, judging by the little trembles in Sakusa’s shoulders, he can make an educated guess on how it went. He really shouldn’t ask, but the silence and his own curiosity are eating away at his resolve._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“So,” Atsumu leans further back on the counter and crosses his arms. “How’d it go?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He expects a “How do you think?” or a “Fuck off.” He gets neither. Sakusa kicks the door closed and stomps past Atsumu into the living room. His hair hides most of his face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________When they first started dating, Sakusa had been very clear about his family situation. That he wasn’t out to them, that he couldn’t bring Atsumu home to family dinners or holidays. Atsumu understood once he met them after a game in Tokyo. They may have the same dark hair and sharp eyes, but Kiyoomi is nothing like them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Hey,” Atsumu tries again, following Sakusa. “Whatever they said, yer home now, okay? Fuck, why didn’t ya tell me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa’s back is still turned toward Atsumu, hands are balled into fists. Cold dread settles in Atsumu’s stomach. He knows Sakusa isn’t particularly attached to his family. Sakusa had promised, once, that when he eventually did come out to them, that whatever they said wouldn’t affect him. Either he had been lying, or they had said something really fucked up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa doesn’t lie._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The dread turns white hot and rises in his throat._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Omi, baby,” Atsumu notices Sakusa’s shoulders lower a little at the nickname, “What did they say about ya? Who do I need to punch?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu’s tone is light, desperate to hold onto a thread of serenity, but Sakusa’s fists tighten._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“It’s not about me, Atsumu,” Sakusa says. It’s low and grinding, like he’s trying not to scream. He finally turns, allowing Atsumu to see him. His face is twisted in a way that Atsumu has never seen before. “It’s what they said about you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It should concern him, but the words send soothing relief down Atsumu’s spine. “Shit, is that all? Ya scared me, Omi.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa’s face drops. “What?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I don’t care what they think of me. I’m just glad they didn’t say anything too bad to ya. They didn’t, right?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“No…nothing I didn’t expect,” Sakusa grinds his teeth. He still isn’t releasing his hands. “But, Atsumu-“_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Omi,” Atsumu stops him. “I don’t care. I’ve probably heard worse from yer bitter ass, anyway.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________It was meant to be a joke, a familiar quip to take the edge out of the room. But Sakusa’s face twists up in that pained expression again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You have, haven’t you,” Sakusa’s eyes are wide. “I’m s-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________And that’s it. Atsumu abandons the distance between them and pulls Sakusa into his arms. He’s still trembling. With anger or something else, Atsumu doesn’t know. “Apologize, and I’ll kick yer ass.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu is way out of his depth here. He can’t recall Sakusa ever being this upset. His breaths are coming shorter and his hands keep twisting in Atsumu’s shirt. The carefully stitched tapestry that is Sakusa Kiyoomi is unravelling, and Atsumu has only just learned how to weave._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’ve never given a shit about what people think of me. Ya know that,” Atsumu mumbles into Sakusa’s neck. He desperately wants a hint, a shred of guidance. “So why are ya-“_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu’s words fizzle out when he pulls back to look at Sakusa’s face. He gets so lost in the devastating mixture of pain and pride in Sakusa’s eyes that he almost misses the pink, barely-there lines on his cheek. Almost._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa must notice the shift, too. His hands are firm on Atsumu’s forearms._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The scattered puzzle pieces Atsumu had been trying to put together slam down and lock into place. Sakusa had never been one to break on his own behalf. Any need for comfort or support always funnels into something else. Usually, the outlet was an absolutely wicked spike or extra practice time. Atsumu never complains, hell, it’s pretty damn productive. With Sakusa, it’s better to let him vent, then pay extra attention to him later._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Now, though, any thoughts of comforting Sakusa are pushed aside. Because Atsumu is about to commit a murder._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He pushes past Sakusa’s hold and rips his coat off the hook._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Atsumu, where are you going?” Sakusa sighs, a bit of his normal exasperation bleeding through. Atsumu would be relieved if he weren’t trying to wrestle into a jacket that, apparently, has a personal vendetta against his arms._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Tokyo,” Atsumu finally shoves the jacket on. “Then, probably prison.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu doesn’t have to look at Sakusa to know what his expression is when he says, “You’re going to drive four hours to my parents and…what, exactly?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________In lieu of an answer, Atsumu pats his pockets for the car keys. Fuck, the jacket’s inside out. The scrape of the inner seams against his palms pluck at Atsumu’s last nerve._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do, Omi?” Atsumu cries. He rips the jacket off his shoulders and shoves it back on the hook. “Some asshole hits ya for being gay, and ya expect me to just sit and take it?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa scoffs. He scoffs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“My father didn’t hit me for being gay, Atsumu.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“The hell?” Atsumu’s voice lowers as he stacks another unfinished puzzle on top of the others. “Why, then?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa takes a deep breath and pointedly looks away from Atsumu. “They were insulting you, and I didn’t…take it well. It got out of hand.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Conflicting emotions slam into Atsumu’s chest so quickly it’s nauseating. The spark of pride and awe that Sakusa would stand up for Atsumu, even when he wasn’t in the room, nearly sends him across the room and back into Sakusa’s arms. On the other hand…_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Omi, why the hell did ya do that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa’s eyes snap back up. He has that look on his face that he gets when he’s trying to follow maps or figure out new kitchen appliances. “This is coming from the man who was ready to drive to Tokyo for a little slap.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Well I can’t just stand idly by while yer getting hurt…defending my fucking honor or something!” Atsumu knows he sounds childish, of course he knows. The words come out anyway._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I told you, it wasn’t about me!” Sakusa’s voice is rising, but he wavers a bit. Uncertainty etches lines between his brows._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“So it’s fine when ya wanna get all vindictive, but I can’t?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“It’s different.” Sakusa looks back at the floor and crosses his arms._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“No, the hell it isn’t! They shouldn’t hit you!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“They shouldn’t have talked about you like that!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu is starting to lose it. The frustration and anger are mixing with a horrible feeling of guilt and he can’t figure out where to channel it. The only thing he knows is that Sakusa’s hurting, and his throat feels thick, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt Sakusa more._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Well, they-“ Atsumu cuts himself off and lowers his voice. “Wait, wait. We’re both pissed at the same thing. How are we arguing right now?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa’s brows smooth out and his shoulders lower. The frustration crumbles into something that makes Atsumu’s chest ache. He just looks so…tired._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa turns, walks the short distance to the couch, and plops down, head lowered. Then, silently, he stretches out his hands._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Omi?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Just come here.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________And what is Atsumu to do but to go to him?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu settles on Sakusa’s lap, curling around him with strong arms. Sakusa plants his forehead on Atsumu’s chest._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m sorry.” He murmurs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Hey, what did I tell ya about apologizing?” Atsumu chides, so very softly. “Look at me, yeah?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa doesn’t cry. It’s a well known fact that Atsumu is the crier. The one time Atsumu did see Sakusa cry was when a dog died in a movie, and it was so alien that Atsumu had avoided his eyes the entire time._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He’s not crying now, not really. This is worse. He looks at Atsumu with every ounce of vulnerability and love he has, and it’s devastating. Atsumu has to look somewhere else, or his own tear ducts will betray him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu feels Sakusa’s fingertips pressing into his back, tense and tight. He reaches back and pulls Sakusa’s hands forward into his own. His fingertips are raw, nails slightly ragged at the ends._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“That bad, huh?” Atsumu. He’s gotten onto Sakusa for habits like that before, but now isn’t the time for scolding. Sakusa nods. Time to get to work, then._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu brings Sakusa’s hands up and presses feather-light kisses to each fingertip. Sakusa’s breath catches in his chest, and it takes all of Atsumu’s willpower to keep his eyes dry. It’s so, so rare for Sakusa to crack open like this, and Atsumu has to be careful where he steps._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu trails from Sakusa’s fingertips down to his palms, then to his wrists. Slowly, kiss by kiss, breath by breath, the tightness in Sakusa’s arms and shoulders dissipates._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He’s not ready to talk, yet. His brows are pulled down and his lips are pursed. Atsumu’s guilt swirls a bit at the thought of Sakusa making this leap alone. He had been alone for so long. Alone in his habits, in his thoughts, his home. Every day of their relationship was an unspoken promise from Atsumu: he doesn’t have to be._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu sets Sakusa’s hands down and pushes his fingers into Sakusa’s hair. Soft curls part aside, unveiling the pink splash on his cheek. It’s so faint, barely raised, but it shoots heat back under Atsumu’s tongue. But anger is far from helpful, so Atsumu leans down and presses his lips to Sakusa’s cheekbone. Finally, Sakusa’s brow smooths and his eyes slip shut._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Ready to tell me what’s really bothering ya?” Atsumu whispers. “I get shit all the time, and I never see ya getting heated over it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu doesn’t really need to ask. Despite Sakusa’s proclaimed detachment from his family, opening up and finding immediate and unforgiving rejection hurts. And Sakusa is hurting, badly. Atsumu had been met with relative safety and acceptance when he came out. He wishes more than anything that Sakusa had gotten the same._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I was hoping that, maybe, they would be more open. To you, to…to me. It was wishful thinking, I suppose,” Sakusa sighs, fingers toying absently with Atsumu’s shirt. “I shouldn’t be so bothered. I knew it wouldn’t end well.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Omi, I’d be worried if ya weren’t bothered by it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa’s mouth pulls down into a pout that Atsumu desperately wants to kiss away, “It’s easier to tolerate family, I suppose. I’m used to it.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Hm,” Atsumu picks Sakusa’s hands back up, hoping his face isn’t betraying the ache in his chest at the words. “You’ve got that wrong, Omi-Omi.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa’s eyes search Atsumu’s face. “Got what wrong?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yer mom, dad, siblings. Those are relatives, yeah. But we’re yer family.” Atsumu smiles at Sakusa’s hands in his own._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“We?” Sakusa tilts his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, we. Samu and Sunarin love ya, too.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa’s gaze slips down to their intertwined fingers. A deep frown cuts uncertain lines into his face. He looks far away, considering._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Did ya really not know, Omi?” Atsumu settles lower on Sakusa’s lap, bringing him back to the surface of his thoughts. “Did ya really think we all just tolerate ya?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa says nothing. This whole night has been bad for Atsumu’s heart, but the quiet bewilderment in Sakusa’s eyes nearly shatters it. The idea of Sakusa navigating his life, truly believing he is only loved when he’s useful, adored but still only tolerated pushes a new wave of potential tears to Atsumu’s eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He pictures a young Sakusa, quietly scraping at furniture. He pictures a silent walk home after a win, after the applause dies down and the fans have left. He pictures expectations slowly pressing on his lungs and back, with so few life lines to grab onto, safety nets he didn’t feel he had permission to fall toward. It’s painful and empty and so achingly familiar and Atsumu is reminded, once again, that he and Sakusa aren’t so different after all._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Damnit, Omi,” Atsumu plants a firm kiss on Sakusa’s forehead. “Yer killin’ me here.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Mhm.” Sakusa hums. His hands travel up and pull Atsumu into a tight embrace. He tucks his face into Atsumu’s neck._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu presses another handful of kisses to the side of Sakusa’s face. He could cover Sakusa’s entire body in kiss after kiss, and it still wouldn’t be enough to show just how much he loves him. “I’m gonna call Samu and Rin, tell ‘em to get down here. It’s only ten, Samu should be closing up right about now. We’ll put ‘em in the guest room for the night.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa huffs a laugh into Atsumu’s collarbone. “You really think they’re going to show up at two in the morning for something like this?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“That’s what family does, Omi.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa stiffens, then slowly melts back down into Atsumu’s chest. Atsumu can feel his face scrunch against his skin._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’ll call,” He says, slipping his phone out of his pocket. “Do ya want a minute alone?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu has implemented this question into all of their more intense discussions since the beginning of the relationship. Sakusa has always valued alone time. It allows him to process and think without interruptions. As they progressed, however, Sakusa had become less and less likely to take the offer. Atsumu expected it to be refused tonight, given the circumstances and the fact that Atsumu was currently straddling him. What he didn’t expect was for Sakusa to crush him to his chest and mutter a quiet, “Please don’t go.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu nearly drops the phone into the cushions. Fuck, his heart is aching. When his mother had told him love would hurt, he din’t think this is what she meant. He loops his arms around Sakusa’s neck and holds tight. “Okay, okay. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Once Atsumu is sure Sakusa won’t crush his spine if he shifts back a bit, he turns his attention to his phone and presses the call button on Osamu’s contact. He picks up after three rings._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What do ya want?” Osamu grunts. He sounds so tired that Atsumu almost feels bad about what he says next._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Hello to you, too. Get down to my apartment with Rin and enough onigiri to fill yer empty ass head. Make it quick.” Atsumu feels Sakusa chuckle._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“And why the hell would I do that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu sighs. “Omi told his parents about us. It didn’t…go well.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’ll be there in five hours.” Osamu declares, voice suddenly much more lively. Atsumu can hear the crinkling of plastic wrap before he even hangs up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa is tracing little patterns on Atsumu’s back. He’s still so tense, ready to shatter at a slight breeze._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“We’ve got awhile, Omi,” Atsumu mumbles into Sakusa’s hair. “Lemme take care of ya?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu lets time slip away with Sakusa’s tension as he presses careful fingers into knotted muscle. He works through dark curls all the way down to pale legs. Normally when they do this, Sakusa lets his eyes close. Atsumu loves those days, when it’s so clear how much Sakusa trusts him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________But nothing about today is normal, is it?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa’s eyes never leave Atsumu’s face. If Atsumu thought the closed eyes displayed trust, nothing could have prepared him for Sakusa’s expression now. It’s painfully open, filled with something so close to reverence that Atsumu has to look away._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________With every push into pale skin, Atsumu washes away a little of the hurt and puts love in it’s place. He knows he can’t take it all. But he can try. So he tries._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Osamu and Suna arrive half an hour earlier than expected, bearing bags upon bags of food. Osamu hits the ground running, rattling off the contents before he even gets his shoes off. “Alright, I’ve got fatty tuna, umeboshi…shit, did I forget the salmon?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Suna holds up another bag with a pointed look. His hair is flattened on one side, like he had been asleep. “Where do ya want it all?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa and Atsumu rush up to take bags and put them on the kitchen counter. The plastic stretches with the weight of enough food to feed several pro teams. Atsumu sends a wide-eyed glance toward his brother._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What? Slow day, I had extra. Oh, Sakusa-san,” Osamu digs in one of the bags and pulls out a clear container of umeboshi. “I’ve been playin’ around with the recipe, wanted ya to tell me if it’s any good.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Sakusa takes the container with careful hands and considers it, brows once again pulling downward. “You don’t have to use honorifics with me, you know.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu nearly crushes the onigiri in his hand. God, he wants to throw something. It’s two in the morning, he’s been on the verge of tears for hours, and now he’s filled with so much love that it’s threatening to fill his tear ducts once more. So, he resorts to the safety of sarcasm, “Omi, you never told me I could do that!”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Hm. I don’t see you bringing me homemade umeboshi.” Sakusa quips, cracking open the plastic._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“No fair! That’s bribery and-“ Atsumu is cut off by a pickled plum shoved into his mouth. Sakusa’s mouth quirks up in a tiny smile before he takes one for himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“These are really good, Miya,” Sakusa praises around a mouthful. “What did you change?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’ll tell ya if ya promise to never do anything that lovey-dovey in front of me again.” Osamu sighs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Sunarin is literally wrapped around ya right now.” Atsumu points to Suna, chin hooked over Osamu’s shoulder with his arms around his waist. Suna shrugs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“That’s irrelevant.” Osamu snaps. One of his hands finds it’s way to Suna’s. Gross._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu looks over to Sakusa, hoping for solidarity in his disgust, but finds his boyfriend smiling so gently, a perfect crack in his shell, that Atsumu really wants to hold his hands, too._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Osamu doesn’t ask questions. He doesn’t say a word about Sakusa’s family or the minimal details Atsumu had texted him. Still, Atsumu can tell he’s seething, staying busy to distract himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Suna hadn’t gotten an ideal response, either. He had gotten the classic “It’s a phase” talk and a very stern lecture about the implications of training camps. That week, Osamu had drafted an entire business plan and menu for Onigiri Miya._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu can practically taste the anger in the forcefully-packed rice balls. It’s the kind of anger only family can have. And as the four of them watch terrible late night television, Osamu and Suna curled up on one end of the couch, he and Sakusa on the other, Atsumu smiles. How lucky they are, he thinks, to have someone to get pissed for._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________***_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The first rays of dawn are creeping through the curtains when Kiyoomi finally drags Atsumu’s exhausted body to bed. They flop onto the mattress, only shifting to press closer together. Kiyoomi faces him, securing an arm around his waist._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu is warm, when he’s tired like this. It makes it so easy for Kiyoomi to wrap around him and let the heat seep down to his bones._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Maybe it’s the residual emotions, or the soft light, or the way he has a hand loosely grasping Kiyoomi’s shirt, but Atsumu looks so damn heavenly. His hair falls over his brows and down to his closed eyes in messy waves, his mouth is parted slightly. He’s so close to letting sleep take him. Perfect._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi begins with a kiss to Atsumu’s forehead. “I love you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu smiles, lazy and genuine. “Mmm, love ya, Omi-Omi.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Kiyoomi opens his mouth to continue, but Atsumu scoots even closer and mumbles, “And if anyone ever lays a hand on ya again, I’m takin’ out some femurs.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Nothing in the world could prevent Kiyoomi from laughing at that. It’s a short, breathy thing, but it’s real. It’s five in the morning in their little apartment and Kiyoomi is overflowing with love and something else he hadn’t named until now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Miya Atsumu is loud, boisterous, and, quite frankly, a jerk. And yet, here he is, cuddling into Kiyoomi’s side like he belongs there. He does._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m proud of you, Atsumu.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu’s golden eyes snap open and find Kiyoomi’s. Fuck, those eyes. The eyes, full of confidence, that he met across a court all those years ago, now full of unshed tears and crushing devotion. The spun gold Kiyoomi was lost to, even back then, he just didn’t know yet._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What do ya mean?” Atsumu whispers, as if speaking too loudly will ruin this._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I’m proud to be with you,” Kiyoomi smooths Atsumu’s hair off his forehead. “I’m proud to have you by my side.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The tears that were desperately clinging to Atsumu’s lashes finally fall. “Yer really gonna kill me one day, ya know that?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Atsumu pushes his face into Kiyoomi’s chest, right into the swell of affection between Kiyoomi’s lungs. They tangle and weave together, forming a map that Kiyoomi could follow for years. It’s messy and sprawling, but it’s theirs. Kiyoomi smiles into Atsumu’s hair._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________For just a moment, he’s proud of himself, too._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on Twitter @tumbleweedfarm_


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